The Dog Days are Over
by Wynn
Summary: Sequel to The Animal Inside. A few weeks after their nighttime conversation, Natasha discovers Loki on Earth and she follows him to discover why.


The Dog Days are Over  
Sequel to The Animal Inside

Of all the cities in the East, Natasha loves Tokyo the most. Her blood hums along with the neon lights, and the city offers a Technicolor respite from the often-dark world of S.H.I.E.L.D. and spying. She especially needs respite now from the view of the past few weeks, ever since Loki had vanished from her apartment, shifting her centered world with his questions and revelations. Since then, her nightmare of being chased by the Hulk had twisted into a psychotic brew of monsters and men, of green and blue and red, she in the cage and then in the center of the three-ring circus telling the brutes to dance.

The final straw had been Clint drawing Loki's face on their paper practice targets and yelling, "CLINT SMASH!" when he sent an arrow through an eye. Which, given that it was Clint, happened every time.

She couldn't begrudge him his need for release given his experience with Loki, but neither could she participate in the mockery, given hers.

So she ran. The mission allowing her to run was simple, just an excuse for a week-long vacation really: follow a few men, find a few guns, plant a few bugs, and then gain a few pounds eating too much sushi. Simple.

Until, that is, she sees Loki standing in the midst of the armed yakuza she'd been spying on from her perch in the warehouse ceiling, his hands in the air, cornered in a cage with no way out.

A tight grin passes over his face as he eyes the ring of guns surrounding him. "It seems we've reached an impasse in the negotiations," he says, and she sees him ease his weight to his back leg. Whether it's for fight or flight she doesn't know, but before his choice can be made, a shout sounds from the walkway opposite her, and she knows that, in her distraction, she's been spotted by the guard.

All eyes down below turn toward her, and she allows herself to be seen by them so that she can lock eyes with Loki.

Shock freezes him as he sees her, but only for a moment, and then, in the diversion, he spins around and sprints for the door.

Gunfire starts to ring out as she swings through the skylight. She runs to the edge of the roof and hears the roar of a motorcycle down below. Loki revs the engine, glances once behind him at the warehouse door, and then vanishes down the alley before she can follow.

Natasha shakes her head and turns away. Loki. On Earth. _Not_ on Asgard and decidedly not executed by Odin for his crimes. She feels a headache forming above her left eye.

So much for respite.

* * *

"Say that to me again," Fury demands over the phone. On the screen on her tablet, she sees a blood vessel begin to pound on his forehead. "You found _who_ _where_?"

"Loki. In Tokyo," she says. She recounts the events of the previous hour, and she sees Fury close his eye and sigh. She understands the sentiment. Her own contemplations of the situation have offered her no clarity. She had expected Loki to die as he had expected to die, but now he lives. She hated him for what he did to Clint and to Phil, but she felt pity for him at his sorrow and regret, too. And, now, he's here and he lives, and she needs to know the reason for both.

Fury opens his eye. He thinks for a moment, rubbing one hand against his chin, and then he says, "We'll work on trying to contact Thor, see what he knows about this. Don't know when he'll come back though, and we can't exactly pick up a phone and call him." He sighs at that. "But we can't let Loki wander around the world either given what he chose to do the last time he was on this planet, so find him, Natasha, watch him, but do not engage."

Natasha begins to protest, but Fury cuts her off.

"I'm serious. We don't need what happened to Clint happening to you, too. I know you beat him at his own game on the Carrier, but he was in a cage then. Now he's not. So find. Follow. Watch. But do not engage."

Fury holds her gaze, unwilling to bend, and after a moment, Natasha nods. "Understood. I'll contact again when I find him."

"Until then," Fury says, and he ends the call.

Natasha turns off her tablet and settles back in her chair. Beyond the window of her hotel room, the lights of Tokyo flash and sizzle. Do not engage, he said. Watch and follow, he said, but do not engage. Sensible orders, she knows, but Loki has drained the sense from her life. He's fogged the clarity she craves, and now she has to know.

Fury will have to understand.

* * *

She finds Loki in India two weeks later. Natasha tracks him to a nice apartment in the posh side of Mumbai. She tries not to remember the last time she was in India, persuading Bruce to join the team.

She lifts the camera and peers through the zoom lens into the apartment. Loki has left the curtains drawn, giving those, like her, in the building opposite a clear view into the entire apartment. He must know that she or S.H.I.E.L.D. or someone else that he's angered along the way would be searching for him, but here he is, in clear view, all the lights blazing in the apartment, as if daring them to come.

Natasha frowns at that and focuses the camera on Loki. He lounges on a green couch, clad in a pair of simple black pants and a shirt. A book rests in his hands, and she tilts the camera down to look at the cover: War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy.

So he knows that it's she that searches for him. Why else would he read a Russian? But if he knows it's her, why display in this way? The curtains, the lights, the book. He must want her to come. But why? After New York, after Clint and Phil, he must know how she and S.H.I.E.L.D. would respond to him: capture, or, in the event of necessity, kill. She knows that the former option wouldn't bother him—he easily escaped their custody before on the Carrier. The latter, though… _She _might not be able to kill him, not alone perhaps, but with Clint and Tony and Steve—with Bruce—they could.

She tries not to think about the Hulk or Thor's reaction to the death of his brother.

Perhaps Loki thinks they'll avoid the kill since he is Thor's brother. Natasha can't guess the amount of loyalty that Thor would have for Loki after Loki had tried to kill him twice; the bonds between a family are something with which she is unfamiliar. Even adopted family.

But, still, Loki must know that death is a possibility. Yet he sits in clear view; he still dares her to come.

Anger twists in her gut, writhes around the curiosity that's been driving her since their conversation the night he was supposed to die.

Fine.

He wants her to come; she'll come.

She places the camera back into her bag, reaches for the pair of guns at the bottom; she slides the guns into the holsters at the small of her back. Each of her boots contains a slim knife, and she sharpened the blades in her wrist gauntlets that morning. She slips her phone into her pocket, just in case, and briefly considers how best to gain entry to the apartment. Would he expect stealth now, a counterbalance to his blatant display? After all, that's how she came to him in the Carrier, appearing silently, almost out of thin air.

No.

No, she'll use the front door.

After all, he is expecting her.

* * *

Natasha stands before the door to the apartment, 25-B staring down at her in gilt lettering. She readies herself and thinks of Fury's orders, of Clint and Phil, of Loki's eyes when he said that all were not as fortunate as she. She thinks of the secure weight of the guns on her back, and then she reaches for the doorknob.

The door is unlocked, of course. Cracking it open, she hears only the gentle hum of air-conditioning beyond. She moves to the side, pushes the door open with one hand. The hall beyond is empty. Natasha places one hand on the butt of a gun and steps inside.

Thick carpet muffles her footsteps, but Natasha does not try to be quiet. She knows from her observation that the end of the short hall opens to the living room and that the couch upon which Loki resided faces the hall. Before the end of the hall, she takes her hand off the gun and inhales slowly. She knows Fury and Clint and Steve and even Tony would disapprove of her actions, but she does not care. She has to know.

She walks forward, stopping in the archway to the living room.

Loki still rests on the couch, War and Peace still rests in his hands, but he is looking at her, his face impassive. He closes the novel and places it on the couch beside him. The silence endures for thirty seconds, marred by the air-conditioning and the now audible thrum of traffic from the road below. She assesses him as he assesses her.

And then Loki speaks. "I suppose you want to know why I'm here. That was your primary query the last time we spoke."

Natasha nods.

"It's understandable," he says, "since I believe we both assumed that I would be dead soon after our last conversation."

"Yes," she says. "We did."

He purses his lips for a moment and then a grim smile appears on his face. "It's funny the way the worlds turn and the fates fall. Take, for instance, our encounter in Tokyo. Of all the Avengers—" Here he pauses over the word, as if tasting the flavor of the term. His mouth twists. "Of all the Avengers to find me first," he continues, "it's you. Isn't that funny? I didn't have that last conversation with everybody, you know."

"I doubted it."

"And yet here you are."

"And here you are."

He grins again and rises off the couch. "And here I am," he concedes. He spreads his arms out, taking in the apartment that surrounds them both. It is as sparse as hers. A gold mirror sits high on the wall behind the couch; a low coffee table stands between she and Loki.

He points to the room behind her, which she knows to be the kitchen. "Would you like a drink?" he asks.

She stares at him for a moment and then says, "Sure."

He starts forward, slowly, watching her reaction. She backs into the kitchen, keeping her hands at her sides, but placing the island counter between them. He stops by the refrigerator and peers at her again with a raised brow. "You know," he says, "it will be difficult to have any kind of a conversation if you restrict yourself to short, declarative sentences." He pauses, regarding her through narrowed eyes. "You know how much I admire your words."

"Is that what you want?" she asks. "Another conversation? Because you could have just called me instead of having me track you around the world."

"And deny you the opportunity to hunt?" he says. "That would have been rude of me." The wicked grin appears again.

"A hunter?" she says. "I'm no hunter."

He quirks a brow at that. "We both know that isn't true. Why else would you have been sent after both me and the beast?"

Natasha stills at his claim, but stays silent. A second passes, and then Loki turns toward the refrigerator. She tenses as he reaches for the door handle, and he pauses, then opens the door all the way so that she can see inside. Only three bottles line the shelves: one of milk, one of wine, and one of sparkling water.

Now she raises an eyebrow and says, "Gods don't eat?"

"We don't cook," he says and waves a hand in front of the three bottles. "Which do you prefer?"

"Water."

He nods once and grabs the bottle. Shutting the refrigerator door, he pulls two glasses from the nearby cabinet and places all on the counter between them. As he twists the lid off the bottle, she says, "Why aren't you dead?"

He smirks. "Because Odin loves sadism almost more than his missing eye." He pours water into the two glasses and pushes one in her direction. Lifting his, he continues, "He rendered his judgment. And here it is." He sweeps the glass around the kitchen. "Banishment. To Midgard." He rolls his eyes and mutters, "He seems to love that one."

Natasha frowns as she processes his words. Banishment to Earth. Why would Thor and Odin let him back here? Unless…

Loki smiles a rueful smile as he catches her expression. "Do you see the humor now?" he asks. "Odin has rendered me powerless and cast me back down to the world with its own merry band of stalwart heroes who want nothing more than to see me dead."

Natasha blinks. Well, _that_ was unexpected. She knows that Odin did the same to Thor; she read Selvig's report of Thor's first appearance in New Mexico, of his powerlessness and then the renewal of powers. Does Odin expect the same from Loki, the same reformation, or has Loki been sent here to die as he indicates?

She remembers again Thor's anguish at Loki's betrayal. You only feel pain like that when you care.

"Or maybe he's giving you a chance," she says.

Loki stares at her, shock at her theory clear on his face, and then he laughs derisively. "A chance, Ms. Romanov? To what? Atone? Reform? Here on Midgard? After corrupting Barton and—"

"Do you really want to review what happened on the Carrier?" she asks, anger beginning to sharpen her voice.

"—after killing Agent Coulson," he continues, staring straight at her, "after setting the beast free, what chance at atonement do I have? What chance do I have when, at the first opportunity, you armed yourself and strode straight through my door with the intent to kill me? As I said before, not all of us are as fortunate as you with your smitten Agent Barton and his chance."

She ignores the dig about Clint. A powerless Loki was one she did not anticipate. His negotiation with the yakuza for weaponry makes sense now, but after being denied his artillery by her interruption, he still did not hide. He still let her come.

She looks at him, sees the misery hiding behind the edge of his rage at Thor and Odin and the rest of the universe. "You let me come," she says. "You knew I would follow you, but you sat here and you waited. You let me see you. You let me in here." She pauses, and, once more, the emotion in his eyes shocks her. "You want to die," she says at last.

"It's inevitable. If it's not you, Fury will send the beast after me. Either that, or Midgardian justice will triumph, and I'll rot in a cell somewhere until I'm put down like a rabid dog." He sets his glass down, untouched, on the counter and stares once more into the water. "Odin may allow sentiment to inform this choice—this chance, as you say—but others will not. Death is the only choice available to me. There is no way out."

There is no way out. The hall narrows, and you reach the end and then the beast is upon you. Natasha feels a chill at the remembered dream. Perhaps the choices would have been different for Loki had the deal with the yakuza succeeded; perhaps, then, the inevitable death would be hers.

Natasha reaches behind her and pulls one of her guns from its holster. She looks down at it, feels the weight of it in her hand. Loki watches her, wary. "Clint and Phil gave me my chance," she says quietly. "And you—" She shakes her head, forces down the rage. She needs calm and balance. "When you came that night to talk," she continues, "I thought it was a dream for a while. The reality of it was too… unreal. It still is." She pauses again, feels the weight of his gaze upon her. She looks up at him and says, "You called me a hunter before. Does this mean you're an animal?"

She thinks she sees a flash of blue, of red eyes and of ice, but the glimpse is gone, replaced by his hollow gaze. "I don't know what I am," he says. "I never have."

A beat passes. Natasha studies him as he studied her the night of their last conversation. Moments of honesty between two compulsive liars. She resists the urge to squirm. Instead, she swallows and looks away and says, "I didn't know either. Not at first. But I found out."

She still hesitates. She finds the notion of killing him now when he is powerless to be distasteful. Fury would want her to bring him in for questioning, perhaps for imprisonment. But Thor and Odin let him go for a reason.

Another few seconds pass, and then Natasha holsters her gun. Surprise flickers on Loki's face. "You have your chance," she says. "I'll make sure the others don't follow you so that you can make your choice."

She turns and walks out of the kitchen before he can respond. She hears him follow her. At the end of the hall, she turns and sees him as unsettled as she feels.

"I'll find you if you make me regret this," she says. "And then I will kill you."

He nods once, slowly, in response. As she opens the door to leave, he says quietly, "Goodbye, Ms. Romanov."

She glances again behind her, but steps through the open door without response. She closes the door with a soft click and then releases the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Phil may have understood this decision; Clint will not. Fury… Natasha closes her eyes and sighs. Maybe he's already talked with Thor and knows the situation. Or maybe he's standing outside with a bazooka ready to bring this absurd circus to an end. Neither would surprise her, but little would after tonight and the past few weeks.

Natasha starts for the elevator and wonders what, exactly, she's gotten herself into and just how far down the rabbit hole she'll have to fall before life begins to make sense again.

* * *

_Coda_

Three days of travel, two days of debrief, two of psych eval to prove that she hadn't been brainwashed or possessed by the former Asgardian god of mischief, and a thirty-five minute rant from Clint that covered _all_ of the ways that her decision would blow up in their collective faces, and Natasha is home.

She grabs her mail from the concierge and heads to the elevator, feeling absurdly like Dorothy returning to Kansas after her trip to Oz.

"There's no place like home," she mutters as she presses the button for her floor. The doors slide shut, and she begins to sift through the month of mail that had accumulated in her absence.

She finds it between an advertisement for a local Thai restaurant and her electricity bill—an expensive cream envelope with her name and address written on the front in a ridiculously refined hand. The elevator doors open, and she peers out, half expecting to see Loki standing before her in the hall, but the hall is empty and all is silent. She makes her way to her door, unlocks it, and pulls her gun from her holster before heading inside. Even before she closes the door behind her, she knows all is clear and she doesn't have to search. The feel of her apartment is the same, empty and secure.

She drops her gun, mail, and bag on the table beside the door and opens the cream envelope. A postcard falls to the floor along with a folded sheet of paper. She grabs the paper first, unfolds it, and finds a neat list of names and bank account numbers for the suppliers and clients of the yakuza that Fury had sent her to discover.

"No fucking way."

Natasha blinks, unable to comprehend the list. This list is the key to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s case against that particular gunrunning ring in the East. And it's just been sent to her on expensive stationary. By Loki.

Her eyes fall to the postcard on the ground. A picture of the skyline of Shanghai stares up at her. She reaches down, flips the postcard over. The same ridiculously elegant scrawl greets her here.

"In recompense for the chance—

—Loki"

Fin


End file.
